Distorted Mask
by SoiurMer
Summary: He knew his life was no longer his own the moment he stepped foot outside, giving forfeit to its' right when accepting the mantle of a Phantom Thief. Although his life was no longer his, the choice of denying those around him to join him on his crusade was his final act; one where they would safe from harm that lurked around the shadows. He would be the only Phantom Thief.


_Life wasn't fair._

 _His mother had always warned him of pushing against fate, to never play a hand in which he was never fully confident in; alas fate would always have the better deck. He had always grown up with the fear of what life may have instore for him around the corner, a fear of what would be stolen away from him._

 _His body felt numb to touch, any contact upon his skin felt like ice. Emotions ran through him; fear, anxiety, doubt along with a mixture of the three as the darkness closed in around him. Haunting figures loomed over his crooked form, their shadow-like texture only distorted by the frosted glares that were directed at him. Leeching, snaring at him as he stumbled through them._

" _Crook..."_

" _Deserves death…"_

" _Poor mother..."_

 _Their words struck into his skin like daggers, each phrase piercing the thin mentality he was barely holding upon. He couldn't retort back at the overseers, any sound he wished to come forth dying before it ever reached their ears._

 _As the echoes continued he felt his body grow weak, no longer able to continue striding forward, the young boy fell to the ground with a soft 'thud'. No reciliation of any previous transgressions came to mind when trying to deflect their jaunts; what did they know about his situation that he didn't, they weren't there!_

 _Then again, could he even trust his own word?_

 _The shadowed figures continued pressing forward to surround the boy, his body disjointing into a foetal position as the taunts grew louder._

 _It wasn't his fault._

 _Life dealt him a bad hand; it wasn't fair._

 _Why did he deserve this; his scattered mind tried to come to terms with what had happened on that shadowy night, one which laid ruin to his normal life as he knew it. Yet nothing came._

 _He wanted to go home, he wanted to see-_

 _/-/_

Akira Kurusu woke up.

Perhaps it was the insistent nightmare that had waked him once more or the fault may have laid in the jostling movements on the subway tram he sat within. Lady luck seemed to with him in the early morning, arriving at the station before the seats within the tram were taking.

He honestly couldn't fathom how people travelled like this daily, pressed against hundreds of others for what could be hours at a time; would he have to get used to this as they had?

After stirring from his thoughts, a quick glance at the watch attached to his hand had assured him that only a few minutes remained of what he hoped would be his final trip for the day, thankfully sleeping throughout most of the journey.

Time ticked by slowly as he waited for the tram to slither to a close, eyes focused on the ragged bag that rested on his knees as to not draw attention; he listened upon the snippets of conversations of those around him.

An older man to his left seemed to be discussing about a railway incident that happened not too long ago, one which ended the lives of quite a few important figures along with critically harming civilians.

He couldn't make out the exact details; though it sounded like the conductor took some form of stroke?

Other idle chats were said around him; some of the latest political trend or fashion, others talking about school life or gaming on a new system. He wondered internally if it made him a bad person for listening to the private conversations of others; alas, he had nothing else to pass the time and did not think anymore upon it.

The next few minutes was spent in blissful ignorance, only to be shattered when the tram halted to a stop and pried open the doors with a distasting hiss. Rising from his seat, Akira muddled through the crowd until he found an open area near the bottom of a stairway, the ignorant masses waddling around as if they were the undead.

Truly, things were different here than in the country.

Hands reclining into the comfort of his pockets, Akira made a mental note of the time in which he had left the station, starting his journey up the flight of stairs with a hunched form.

Who was the guy who even took him in, anyways?

/-/

The sky had become somewhat dimmer over the course of his travels through the bristling city streets, narrowly avoiding clashes with the masses of people and unstoppable cars that rushed by. It was a slight embarrassment and blow to his pride to admit he had become lost on the track to the backstreets of Yongen-Jaya; the back ally of houses and shops being hidden from plain view made his new living arrangement a difficult task to accomplish.

His phone, the one the prosecutor had robbed him off for a few weeks to wipe and establish small guidance to his new residence was of little help, it merely stated his new guardians name and the format of their home.

Nothing on where exactly where that was in the backstreets; his lucky day.

Wandering around like a lost pup would only just waste more his time, so in a desperate attempt he approached a man garbed in a blue inform; a police officer no doubt. Walking up to the man had obliterated his nerves, would the man recognise him somehow and try and lock him up without a fair trial, would he even get to ask a question before being cuffed and put against the wall?

"Excuse…Excuse me, do you happen to know the location of this address." That dammed stutter seemed to have returned, it seemed the quirk he had repressed in his earlier years seemed to have resurfaced.

"Ah, of course young man, may I look at the paper?" The uniformed officer didn't seem to have any outward reaction to his presence; a good omen by any start. "Ah, you're looking for Sakrua-san correct?" I gave a stiff nod in return.

The man seemed to hum in thought for a few seconds, before nodding collectively to himself and raising a hand to point to an ally that was nearest to my right.

"His home's down that ally however, he runs a small café at daylight hours s I would suggest heading there first if you wish to speak with him." The man gave a confident smile as I thanked him for his time, apparently returning to his duty of keeping a watchful gaze over the area.

Did something happen here recently?

Deciding not to mull over it any longer, Akira strolled down to the shop that rested neatly on the side of an ally, and true to the officer's word, it was a small café. It was cutely labelled and the colour pallet stood out from the toned grey of the walls that surrounded it; giving it an almost home-like feeling to it.

Hand reaching to push open the door, he was halted when the doorframe opened before he could reach it; two figures of an elderly couple pushing by, more than likely finished customers judging by their satisfied looks.

Allowing them to pass with soft mutters of apologies, Akira strolled into the small café diner, eyes drawn to the man resting against the barstool with a paper in his hand and a frustrated gesture on his face. He was an older man, a receding hairline along with a pointed beard, donned in a pink shirt covered by an apron.

Was he the manager?

"Four hours for one cup of-oh…" His thoughts were interrupted when the man seemed to take notice of his presence within his shop; weary eyes seemingly drinking in every detail of his fibre. He almost shuddered under his gaze.

"So, you must be the brat Akira, the one I'm looking after for the next year?" His voice was deep yet smooth, almost as if the tone was set to demand authority yet respect. His words meant one thing however, this was Sakrua-san, his warden for the next year.

"I was honestly expecting more of a delinquent-look for you brat, with all the shit you started…" His voice remained even however, the frustration in his tone was still heavily implied. Normally he would have reacted to such an insult, yet he knew that any actions he committed could easily be blown out of proportion

"Please take care of me for the next year, Sakrua-san."' His voice was quiet and meek, no longer able to muster up the courage and snark that had once been his usual style. The man seemed to ponder n the statement for a moment before grunting and gesturing for him to follow.

He didn't have a choice, so with haste pace made his way up to what he assumed was the attic.

He hadn't been expecting much for living arrangements hen transferred here however, the sight he was brought upon was less than satisfactory to say the least. Although much larger than any previous room he had slept in, most of the new space was cluttered with shelves, boxes and tools that had no use residing in a bedroom.

Of course, the notable lack of anything that normally resides in a bedroom besides the bed itself painted a pretty clear picture; this was an attic to store items, not to live in. It was another pang to his heart and a reminder of his situation.

He wasn't wanted by anybody, he was a cast aside.

"'I didn't get a chance to do much before you arrived so I'm leaving the task of cleaning up this mess on you." Try as he might, Akira couldn't bring himself to do anything but nod along to the man's words; he heavily doubted he would ever find the energy to clean the cluttered room with his current situation.

"I'll close up shop soon and head on home, meaning you're gonna' be locked in here for the night" That was a sudden surprise to hear, though it made sense in theory. This was the only room in the building that wasn't attached to the café and the officer had mentioned his guardian residing in his own home.

So even here, he would be alone.

The man seemed to take notice of my downtrodden mood as he seemed to relent on using the commanding tone he had once adopted. "Look, I know shit's tough but that's what you get for sticking your nose into none of your business."

He visibly flinched at the reminder of his past aggression, where he finally let his emotions claim the better of him in the spur of the moment.

It wasn't fair…

"Look, tomorrow you were going to head to your Shujin to see the principle about your transfer however, due to accidents on the railway they've decided to postpone it." That was news to him, thoughts wandering on what he would do in the following day then.

As if reading his thoughts, Sakrua replied with a lighter tone.

"'Your previous grades prove you aren't an idiot all the time so they expect you to already know the situation you're in." Do anything that annoys them and he got sent to Juive for the next few years, disgusting but he understood it.

"Starting tomorrow you'll begin your new school year at the Shujin Academy." One whole evening to prepare himself for the upcoming trial. Thanking Sakrua a final time for his effort tin giving him a home, he watched his guardian trout down the stairway and leave the shop with a soft 'chime'.

Once more, the boy was left to his own thoughts in an attic filled with trash; almost reminded him of home. Sliding onto the cushion surface off his duvet, Akira allowed his thoughts to drift as he watched the room darken around him. What would school life be like and would he accustom to it, would anyone try to falsely accuse him of something he didn't commit, would he ever stop feeling like the world was against him?

His hopes weren't targeted high.

"…ona" With a final mutter, Akira no longer held any prominent thoughts and instead drifted into a restless slumber.

/-/

 _Where was he?_

 _The room he seemed to be in was made up of four enclosed black walls, each sealed tight in the corners with n means of escape; yet he felt no fear nor dread as he wondered about the strange arena he found himself in._

 _He felt a calming presence he had all but forgotten in the shadowed room, an experience he had forsaken when his mother forfeited her rights to hold him in her household._

 _Who was he?_

 _That was simple; his name was…Arsene? No that wasn't right, he knew what his mother called him and that wasn't it; why couldn't he remember his name!?_

 _He fell to the floor in a panic, eyes bulged as he tried to remember his name, anything that would allow him to say it; yet his mind kept coming to the same conclusion._

 _Arsene._

 _He could feel fresh tears spring forth as his nails drove into his head; it began to almost hurt to try and remember and the pulsating throb in his skull only seemed to be increasing in intensity. He wanted to scream, to shout yet nothing came out yet spittle that hit the floor._

 _He..He wasn't Arsene! He was…He was…_

" _I AM THOU…"_

 _That voice, it echoed through the room – no, it echoed throughout his mind; its' graveling voice penetrating all his sense at once. It hurt to listen, he could almost feel the blood running erupting from his earlobes as it spoke once more._

" _THOU ART I…" Blue frames erupted a few feet away from his position, the embers scattering around the room as the voice echoed once more._

 _This had to be another nightmare, it had to be! Yet with all his might he couldn't move his body nor his gaze as he watched a face erupt from the flames. A young boy with navy black hair and a sharp face, a wicked grin plastered along his features_

 _His face._

" _I…I…"_

 _He had to get up, had to get away from whatever this thing was. He couldn't move however, his body seemed locked in place by some mysterious force. The mirrored version f himself seemed to expand his grin, as an arm erupted from the flames and began to outstretch towards him._

 _No, he couldn't let this monster touch him; his instincts told him to get away from the beast yet his limbs refused to follow his command._

 _He couldn't be took here, he had to get back to his mother._

" _Mother…" His breath hitched._

 _He wouldn't let this beast take him, no matter what it said nor what his body would allow him to do. Turning his head to face directly at his mirrored image; he let out a mighty cry._

" _My name…Is AKIRA!"_


End file.
